Get Out Alive
by desibookworm
Summary: If you want to get out alive,    Hold on, run for your life.  Companion to "His Little Spitfire" but can be read on its own.


_No time for goodbye, he said,_

_As he faded away._

_Don't put your life in someone's hands._

_They're bound to steal it away._

_Don't hide your mistakes,_

'_Cause they'll find you, burn you_

_Then he said,_

_If you want to get out alive_

_Hold on, run for your life._

_If you want to get out alive,_

_Hold on, run for your life._

_This is my last time, she said,_

_As she faded away._

_It's hard to imagine,_

_But one day, you'll end up like me._

_Then she said,_

_If you want to get out alive,_

_Hold on, run for your life._

_If you want to get out alive,_

_Hold on, run for your life._

_If you want to get out alive,_

_Hold on, run for your life._

_If you want to get out alive,_

_Hold on, run for your life._

_If I stay, it won't be long,_

'_Til I'm burning on the inside._

_If I go, I can only hope,_

_That I make it to the other side._

_If you want to get out alive,_

_Hold on for…_

_If you want to get out alive,_

_Hold on for…_

_If you want to get out alive,_

_Hold on, run for your life._

_If you want to get out alive,_

_Hold on, run for your life._

_If I stay, it won't be long,_

'_Til I'm burning on the inside._

_If I go, I can only hope,_

_That I make it to the other side._

_If I stay, it won't be long,_

'_Til I'm burning on the inside_

_If I go, if I go._

_Burning on the inside…_

_Burning on the inside…_

_Burning on the inside…_

~Get Out Alive (Three Day's Grace)

"_Don't put your life into someone's hands, they might steal it away from you. And then you can't get it back. If you want to get out alive, hold on and then run."_

It was the proverb Elizabeth lived and died by. It was one of many she'd imparted to him during their long time together before his imprisonment. She was such a Slytherin sometimes that Sirius had wondered what magic she'd done upon the Sorting Hat to put her into Gryffindor.

She knew what it took to survive. She lived by the laws of survival: keep your head down, say little, observe a lot, trust no one, use your strengths and cover your weaknesses. By whatever means necessary to achieve the ends.

He'd never agreed with this. Always, Sirius had the knack for being the centre of attention. He liked people, and he was accepting of people of lower blood status than himself, brave to a fault, chivalrous to the point where it was just annoying, and reckless.

Elizabeth, while accepting of people of lower blood status, was his polar opposite. She was silent, calculating, cynical, and prudent. She disliked or distrusted people, save for the small circle of tight-knit friends she'd managed to find. However, like Sirius, she was loyal, and she didn't take kindly to betrayal, and if it was from a friend, then it was a million times worse. She loved Sirius and therefore she'd trusted him. But it took her a while to trust him, because she never let anyone in, and the moment they'd met, he'd started pulling her walls down.

Two such similar childhoods, but with two antithetical outcomes. Both Sirius and Elizabeth had grown up in powerful, conservative, pureblood families, both had an uncharacteristic aversion to purism, the idea that blood purity made one superior, both experienced violence at the hands of one of their parents. In Sirius' case it was his mother, in Elizabeth's, her father.

But while Sirius' brother Regulus had taken his parents' side and joined forces with the Dark Lord, Elizabeth's brother Gabriel had taken more to Elizabeth's moral compass than their father's, and he had taken Elizabeth's side in the end.

She'd made sure he was taken care of before she died. She'd written her will early: all Aurors were supposed to, especially now. Dark times meant uncertainty, and for all Elizabeth's confidence, there was just no telling with this war. It was war, and no one was a child anymore. Elizabeth and Sirius had stopped being children long before leaving Hogwarts, nor would they ever be children again.

"_This is my last time. Be careful. This war is going to change everything forever. One day you'll become like me_._ And then there won't be any time for goodbyes._"

Everything Elizabeth said was true…he once asked her if she was a Seer. She laughed and said no. Human interaction was so predictable, she said. Years of keeping her distance gave her years of time to observe the behaviour of other people. She had observed patterns…and she'd been determined to break the pattern.

But Sirius could read her, every time. But now, she was right. He _had _become like her.

Sitting in a cell in Azkaban with the only company being the dementors' lovely demeanours and the nightly screams of his Azkaban inmates had turned him into the shell of the outgoing, easygoing boy he'd once been. Now he was quiet, pensive, tormented by memories of the past.

"_Don't hide your mistakes, because they'll find you. And then they'll hurt you."_

He'd gone after Peter in reckless rage…and now he was reaping what he sowed. He'd serve undeserved lifelong penance…not that anyone believed his punishment was undeserved. That dastardly coward had obliterated the entire street, and run down into the sewers. He had learned enough both from Elizabeth and from this war, to know that Elizabeth's death only hours after his arrest was no coincidence. She'd been murdered, the Dark Mark over their house. He'd no idea who killed her, but if he had to guess, it wouldn't have been Peter that did it.

He was far too much of a coward, nor was he particularly brilliant. He was a hopeless dueller. Sirius and Elizabeth had had many duels in the past, leading up to their engagement and marriage, and after. Elizabeth was a brilliant witch, and an even more fearsome dueller. Peter wouldn't have stood a chance duelling her, even if he'd ambushed her.

If Sirius had to guess, it'd be someone like his dear cousin Bella. But Bella had been in Azkaban during his arrest, as had Rodolphus, Rabastan and Barty Crouch Jr. Rosier and Wilkes had been dead. Malfoy, Nott, Avery and Macnair all had duelled with Elizabeth before…and lost. Snape had…defected. Sirius never trusted him.

Elizabeth, for some unfathomable reason, did.

This didn't go down too well with him and Sirius only let it rest when Elizabeth told him, quite bluntly actually, after a row they'd had, that she wasn't going to leave him for Snape, if that was what was worrying him, and that she knew what she was doing and that he should just shut the fuck up. Sirius, for the sake of their marriage and for his peace of mind, let it rest. He trusted Elizabeth.

After all, survival was her number one priority. It ranked above he himself, and he had had to come to terms with that a long time ago, long before he had ever even asked her out.

Azkaban made him relive his worst memories, his fears, his nightmares. It was just as terrible as all the rumours had made it out to be. The torrent of misery that surrounded him, both his own and that of the prisoners, coupled with the fact that Sirius _hated_ being confined, had nearly destroyed him.

Sirius had nothing: no family (well, none that were on his side), no reputation, and no marriage. His bride had been murdered, and he knew that no one else would ever measure up. He'd accepted that. He'd had nearly thirteen years to accept that. She'd left this world.

And being trapped inside this vile cell made his grief and rage and hopelessness all the worse. As a child, as a teenager, even as a young adult, Sirius craved fresh air. At Hogwarts, he used to allot an hour or two _at the least_ to sit outside by the Black Lake and enjoy the elements. After Hogwarts, during his marriage especially, he made a point of going out, at least once a week (he'd cut down on his daily excursions due to the war). Elizabeth worried, and rightly so, when he was gone for too long.

When Elizabeth had needed her solitude, she'd go out too, but to different locations, and normally, by the time Sirius knew she had gone out, there was only a note accompanying his dinner, saying she was gone and would be back whenever she felt like it. He worried out of his mind until she got back, before practically tackling her and holding onto her until she was sure she couldn't breathe.

They hated being inside. After their wedding, they'd made sure to get a house where there was open space, trees, sky and fresh air. One of the requirements of a house (because Elizabeth was especially picky: she often said that if she had to be stuck with Sirius the rest of her life, she might as well like the house she lives with him in) was that it should be somewhere in the country.

Sirius, the mad, lovesick fool that he had been, obliged without question. It benefitted him as much as it did her. He loved open space as much as she did, and most of all, when Elizabeth was happy, he was too. If she was frustrated or angry with him, then she'd make his life hell, intentionally or unintentionally.

He'd made so many mistakes with her. But one mistake he'd learned from, was always listen to Elizabeth's advice. She was a silent girl, so when she spoke, everything she said had an extra weight. And Elizabeth only spoke when she needed to, so that made everything she said all the more important. His biggest mistake was leaving her behind, nearly defenceless. Nearly, because she herself was a formidable defence, but not effective if she came face-to-face with the likes of Voldemort.

He'd paid dearly for that mistake. She was no longer with him but for in spirit, and he was trapped and isolated in this small seven-foot chamber of hell.

"_If you stay, it won't be long 'til you're burning on the inside. If you go, you can only hope that you'll make it to the other side. If you want to get out alive, hold on so you can plan and then run. Run for your life."_

Sirius' body jolted like he'd been hit with lightning. He could hear Elizabeth's voice whispering in his mind, cautions and plans. "Can I see that paper? I have missed the comics and doing the crossword had always been fun," he said conversationally to Fudge, who stared at him, thunderstruck. Sirius may have scorned purist pureblood ideology, but he knew quite well the protocol: stay cool, stay calm, don't show emotion. Those were the three rules by which Elizabeth abided and he tried to ignore for the most part. But he knew that at this moment, if he didn't swallow his pride and act the part, he'd regret it the rest of his life. He had to be sure. He just had to.

"Um…very well then," Fudge said, not even trying to disguise how unnerved he was by Sirius' lucidity. He handed over the paper and moved hurriedly to go to inspect the next cell as Sirius looked down at the paper.

He scanned the headline. _MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE. _He quickly skimmed the article, but found nothing all that interesting or of immediate consequence to him and discarded it quickly. He looked to the picture. Arthur and Molly Weasley were merrily smiling and waving into the camera. Their seven children were grinning just as broadly. His eyes slid to the youngest boy. He had his arm around his younger sister. That wasn't what was important. The filthy scum on his shoulder was what was important. He checked the date on the picture…that was taken last week.

He didn't know how much time had passed. He'd hidden the picture in his tattered robes, thoughtfully tearing the article into little pieces as he mulled things over. He knew that he couldn't stay here anymore. It was like someone had lit a fire within him, a fire that only he could extinguish. Merlin knew that people would think he was madder than they already thought he was. Now was his chance.

But he couldn't be hasty. He knew this. But nor could he sit here and lay down while that cowardly bastard was out there, at _Hogwarts_ of all places. That article said that the youngest five children would be going back. _To Harry_. James' face flashed into his mind. Followed by Lily's. Both were accompanied by pangs of pain and grief and rage. And then, the most powerful face of all, the one that had the power to bring Sirius down to his knees, sobbing and convulsing: Elizabeth's. Sirius closed his eyes against the onslaught of memories.

_James and Sirius' first full moon._

_The Marauders pranking the Slytherins._

_Sunday lunch with the Potters…_

_The Marauders sneaking into the girls' dormitory under James' Invisibility Cloak to sit in on their sleepover._

_James' countless fruitless attempts to get Lily to go out with him._

_Christmas at Hogwarts with James, Remus, Lily and Elizabeth._

_Elizabeth hugging him after winning their last Quidditch Cup, even though she'd had broken ribs and a broken wrist._

_Sirius twining a white Queen Elizabeth rose in Elizabeth's hair on her birthday._

_Sirius and Elizabeth duelling after she'd ransacked her wardrobe on Christmas Eve._

_Lily and Sirius clashing after Elizabeth and Sirius' first date, when they'd run into Elizabeth's father and he hit her across the face._

_Sirius asking Elizabeth out._

_Sirius being James' best man for his wedding._

_Elizabeth being Lily's maid of honour._

_Sirius proposing to Elizabeth._

_Sirius and Elizabeth's wedding._

_Sirius and Elizabeth's first night together…and all nights after that._

_Lily's pregnancy._

_Harry's birth, and naming of Elizabeth and Sirius as godparents._

So many good memories…all gone because of one cowardly bastard. He'd successfully managed to tear five lives apart. His, James', Lily's, Elizabeth's, and Harry's. Merlin only knew what was happening to Harry right now.

The fire within him flared with more urgency over the next week. It was conflicting with the depression of thinking of Elizabeth. He'd tried not to brood over it. He was unsuccessful. He'd never gotten over it. He doubted he ever would. It was only ever her. Always had been, always would be.

He transformed, almost without thinking about it, into a great black shaggy dog. His hair was longer and filthy, his form thinner, but he looked relatively the same. He stood on his two back legs and stared out of the miniscule window of air he received in his cell. They were about two or three kilometres from shore. He could swim there in one leg. He looked at the bars. He was thin enough to fit through it. He stuck a paw through it, trying to gauge how much he'd have to suck in his stomach, if at all, to fit through it.

He waited until nightfall, when all the prisoners would be too lost in their helpless torments of the dementors to notice him. The dementors were always more potent and deadly at night. He was in the high security section, and he was lucky his fur blended in well. Dementors were blind and the prisoners, as good as. Getting out would be almost too easy. Pettigrew's picture was burned into his mind's, and Elizabeth's cold, calculated planning was etched into his instinct.

He sulked in the shadows until a dementor had pulled open the door to dump out waste from each prisoner's cell. He recognised his opportunity, and took it, knowing this would likely be the last time for the week that that door would be open and he simply couldn't wait that long. He'd viewed the prisoners' habits as well as that of the dementors, over the last thirteen years and during that week especially during which seeing Peter Pettigrew's scummy face had set alight a blazing mania within him.

From under his robes, he extracted a small gold locket, opening it on his hand again. A twenty-year old version of himself was tickling his twenty-year old fiancée, trying to get her to say "I love you". He wished he could go back to those days.

But that was in the past and he just needed to see Elizabeth's face right now. He needed her strength. He was already weak enough as it was. He pressed his lips to the cold metal, and then, quick and lithe as a cat, jumped through the slit in the door before the dementor closed it. _Blind fool_, he could hear Elizabeth sneering in his mind. He'd taken to listening to her voice, just talking, while he was in there. It kept him sane, kept him breathing, kept him rationally thinking. Now, it was like she was guiding him. For once, he shut up and listened, without arguing it back. She was his saving grace. She would get him out alive.

The feeling of fresh air was unfamiliarly pleasant, lifting up the hair on Sirius' body. He jumped from the cursed rock that the prison of the _damned_ was laid upon, and into the frigid water. Even though it was the middle of summer, the North Sea was _cold_ as all hell. All he could hear was the wind whistling and Elizabeth's voice, telling him to keep swimming, not to stop, not to transform.

It was only when he'd swam half the distance that Sirius realised what he'd just done.

He'd escaped Azkaban and was running for his life. Now, he just _knew_ he had to get out alive. He had to. And he would. Elizabeth's voice was guiding him: he could make it. If it wasn't for himself, it'd be for Elizabeth. He'd get his revenge and avenge her death.

Well, no one ever said that he'd learned _all_ his lessons from his wife.


End file.
